Ties
by Gerald Tarrant
Summary: Between battles and Protodeviln and Macross 7 politics and the UN Spacy, there's a group of people Basara can always turn to.


_Macross 7 and all characters are property of Bandai, Big West, FiX, and Manga Entertainment.  
Please do not repost this fanfiction without permission.  
lordofmerentha@yahoo.com_

* * *

**Ties**

"Where have you been?"  
He stopped and blinked, one foot in the doorway, the light switch still between his fingers. He never locked his door, it was true, but Ray was usually asleep this late at night. And early to bed or not, Ray never came into his apartment without permission. He always called first.  
"R-Ray."  
Ray drew a deep breath, and Basara could see that familiar line between his eyes, the line that meant whatever sin he had committed, he had better admit it, and the quicker the better. He had seen it all the time when he had been younger, when he would sneak off somewhere and return past curfew, hoping Ray wouldn't catch him. Of course, Ray always did.  
But he was an adult now, and there were some things Ray couldn't know about.  
"Nowhere," he said, shrugging, breezing past Ray into his room, plopping down on the floor beside the refrigerator and digging in a drawer for a pair of clean socks.  
"Basara."  
"I told you," he said irritably, ignoring the nagging feeling he always got when he ignored Ray. "I wasn't anywhere."  
He expected the other to respond with some scathing comment or launch into one of the talks he had always given him when he was a teenager. Tell me where you're going, Basara. This is for your own good, Basara. Don't make me worry, Basara.  
But Ray didn't. Instead, he simply stood there.  
"Stop looking at me like that," he mumbled, feeling the urge to crawl somewhere and hide.  
"You know I worry," Ray said. "I don't have to give you the speech again, do I?"  
"No."  
Ray sighed. "You know I just-"  
"I know," Basara said softly. "You don't have to say it, all right? Leave it at that."  
Ray closed his eyes. "I…Basara."  
When he was little he used to think that Ray knew everything. That Ray was a superman who could sense everything he was doing and everywhere he had been. He hadn't been afraid of Ray, but rather more in awe of him, the mysterious man who was so kind and stern all at once.  
_I found out what Ray used to do,_ Mylene had told him, turning up her nose.  
_Oh?_ he said.  
_He was a pilot. An elite military pilot._  
_Is that so?_ he murmured. He rather wished he hadn't lied to Mylene, if only to get her off his back, but it was only another one of the little white lies he always told her that never did any harm. He had lived with Ray for the majority of his life, and it would have been rather absurd not to know something about the man.  
He had been a teenager when he had realized that Ray wasn't a superhero after all. That he was just like everyone else; a man, with his own troubles and his own problems. That Ray really had worried about Basara the irresponsible boy and now about Basara the troubled teenager and would worry about Basara the adult.  
He couldn't stop Ray from worrying, perhaps. But then again, maybe he didn't want to.  
"I know what you're thinking," he said quietly. "It's not a woman, if you were going to ask."  
A gradual relaxing of the shoulders. "Sou ka."  
Basara's lip twisted. "A while back you were nagging me about not having a girlfriend. Now you're worried because you think I have one?"  
"It's not like that," Ray began from behind him, and Basara gave him a little half-wink.  
"It's all right, ne? Kitto ok. Daijoubu yo. How many different ways do I have to say it? Relax, Ray. I'm an adult. I can take care of myself. It's not five years ago, you know."  
"It's not like that," Ray said again, but Basara ignored him, clambering up the ladder and throwing open the window. The night breeze rushed in, ruffling his hair. He supposed he should be thankful that the air didn't have the faint smell of solvent that most recycled air seemed to have only a few years back. When it had been only him and Ray. No Veffidas. No Mylene. No Fire Bomber. They'd been so free back then.  
"Don't you wish we could go back?"  
He heard Ray come up the ladder, slowly. "What's that?"  
"I said," he raised his voice. "Don't you wish we could go back, sometimes? Just you and me. We were invincible. We could do anything."  
"Sometimes," Ray said. "But not too often. Would you rather trade the past for what we have?"  
He thought for a moment. "I don't know."  
"Why so melancholy tonight, Basara?"  
_If I could tell you, I would,_ he thought ruefully to himself, and caught his own thoughts before they wandered off to the far forests where the enemy lay sleeping in the glow of her own life blood. _Sivil…_  
"I don't know," he said aloud. He hated lying to Ray, and he tried not to do it too often. But they were both adults, and he bet that most of the time Ray didn't tell him the whole truth either. He never had.  
"All right," Ray said, moving to stand next to him at the open window. The dim red shape of his Valkyrie crouched several stories down, beautiful in the moonlight. "You know you're a hero, Basara. The Macross citizens love you."  
He grimaced. "Don't remind me."  
There was no surprise in the look Ray gave him, merely curiosity. "You don't like it, I know. Why is that?"  
You wouldn't understand, he wanted to say, but he didn't. The people of Macross didn't understand. Mylene didn't understand. But Ray was not Mylene.  
"It's not why I sing," he said finally, staring fiercely at the Valkyrie, as if hoping it would give him some answers. "The way they act…it makes me seem cheap. I don't know…like just another idol pop star. I don't want my music to be remembered that way. You know?" He never thought he could say it quite so calmly. The thought that his music would be loved and then dismissed and then forgotten…He thought of Linn Minmei, the star against which all others were judged. What had happened to her music, after all these years? "I'm not singing because I want to be a hero."  
"So why do you sing, then?"  
He was silent.  
"Ever since I've known you," Ray said, "you've been singing. You sang for me when I first met you, and you're still singing now. Back then, I thought there was something different about you, and now I know. But you know what, Basara?"  
He shook his head.  
"It doesn't matter what they think. It doesn't matter what I think. The only thing that matters is what you think, and if you know why you sing, then nothing matters. But if you don't…" he trailed off. Basara looked at him, almost meeting his eyes, but not quite. Then he turned from the window.  
"Where are you going, Basara?"  
"I'm going for a walk," he called over his shoulder. "And I'll be back before dawn, I promise."  
"I can't stop you," Ray's voice came from behind him. "We're older now."  
He stopped, then smiled over his shoulder, feeling a twinge of guilt at the worry lines on Ray's face. They were older, and time wasn't going to give them any special privileges.  
"Ray. I'll be fine. On my honor."  
He shut the door carefully behind him and walked slowly down the stairs. The moon, false though it was, was bright in the sky and Basara stared up at it for a moment, wondering if Sivil was aware of the moon, the sun, the wind, his song, anything. Or if she was really and truly oblivious.  
_Sivil…why won't you wake up?_  
He didn't know how long he walked, only that when he finally stopped and looked around that he wasn't in Akusho anymore, but the narrow district that bordered Akusho and the government district. The apartments were a little nicer here, though most anything was nicer than his dump of a place, as both Mylene and Gamlin had called it on separate occasions.  
Wait a moment. Didn't…didn't Veffidas live here?  
He breathed in the night air, taking in the clean smell of freshly washed streets, then blinked. There were sounds coming from one of the open windows…yes. Definitely drumming. He smiled to himself, then almost not knowing why, swung open the door of the apartment complex and went in.  
The stairs were carpeted and the lamps in the hallways actually worked. The drumming had been coming from the third floor. Basara scratched his nose and followed the sound, ending up at a plain wooden door no different than any of the others on that floor. He knocked.  
Of course. She wouldn't hear him, with all that drumming. He thought for a moment, then drew his foot back and kicked the door. Something fell onto the floor inside. The drumming stopped.  
The door opened and for a moment, Basara realized he had forgotten how tall Veffidas actually was. Then she stepped aside and motioned him in. The apartment was well-kept and sparsely furnished, but at least it was furnished at all. He wouldn't put it past Veffidas to decide she didn't need any furniture other than her drums and throw it all out the window.  
"What's up?" he said, lazily, standing in the middle of the empty room.  
"Hello, Basara. It's been a while."  
He blinked. "So it has," he said slowly. "Gomen…I guess I keep forgetting to come and visit you."  
A small smile curved the corner of one of her lips, and he knew she wasn't mad, just amused. He hadn't known Veffidas nearly as long as he had known Ray, but it was still a long time, and he prided himself on being able to read some of her emotions, if not all.  
"You're busy," she said simply.  
"No excuse for forgetting an old friend." He gestured around the apartment. "You've got a nice place here."  
Drumsticks tapped against the wall. Thank you, she was saying. He remembered the first time he had seen her…twenty feet tall, looking down at him with those enormous Zentradi eyes. Who would have thought?  
"What do you need, Basara?"  
"Huh?"  
Sticks tapped a rhythm on the carpet. Need. You. From me.  
"I didn't come to get anything from you. I told Ray…I told Ray I was going to take a walk."  
"It's late for Ray to be up." Short sentences. Succinct. Veffidas was nowhere near as verbose as the mayor. He admired that in her. She got the same thoughts out in far less time.  
"Yeah," he admitted. "It is."  
She tapped the same pattern again. Need. You. From me. He sighed.  
"You and Ray. I swear, you two will be the death of me."  
"Ray worries," she said. Watching him. Her eyes were smaller now but no less clear and piercing, and he suddenly felt like a little boy again.  
"Veffidas…" he said, then stopped. She waited. "Veffidas, why do you drum so much?"  
She cocked her head to one side. "I enjoy it."  
"Is that all?"  
"You're troubled."  
Basara sighed.  
"I suppose," he said. "Ray asked me where I go at night…again."  
Question on the tapping this time. He shook his head. "I didn't tell him." He knew Veffidas wouldn't ask him to tell her, and he had no desire to tell her, so he kept it at that. She nodded.  
"Sometimes," she said, "it's better to talk."  
He frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
Veffidas gazed placidly at him. Exactly, the sticks tapped.  
"You don't talk," he pointed out.  
"I don't need to," she said. "I'm not the one who is troubled."  
He blew out a breath. "Mou." Sat down. "Great. I'm beginning to sound like Mylene."  
"Talk to her," Veffidas said.  
"What?"  
"Mylene."  
He snorted. "You crazy? I'm not talking to some fourteen year old kid about my problems! She hasn't even hit puberty yet!"  
The cymbal crashed, and he jumped.  
"Don't be too sure yet," Veffidas said. "How well do you know her?"  
Too well…not well enough. "I don't know," he admitted.  
"You have known Ray and me for years. We understand each other. But Mylene is new. She doesn't always understand what is happening, and it is not just because she is young, though that has something to do with it. I know you care for her, Basara. We all do. But you could show it a little more sometimes. She is not like Ray, or me. Do you understand what I am saying?"  
It was one of the longest speeches he had ever heard Veffidas make. He nodded slowly. "I suppose…"  
Good, the bass drum said, and she sat down at her trap set. He met her eyes over the cymbals, and then he grinned.  
"Thanks, Veffidas."  
The drumming started again, as if he had never come, and he sighed, closed the door behind him and shuffled down the stairs.  
Mylene…Mylene was the last person he wanted to see right now. He wanted to go home, to make sure Ray was all right and that he was getting enough sleep. He might have been an elite pilot, but the injury he had sustained a few weeks ago was going to take time to heal…time they didn't have. Ray would need all the rest he could get. And he needed sleep himself. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, catching an hour or two before he had to get up, playing to Sivil through the night. It seemed pointless, really.  
Ray had asked if it was a woman, and it wasn't, technically. Not really. Not in the sense Ray was thinking of.  
Basara shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and left the apartment drive, wandering slowly, aimlessly, down the street. It was a little cold to be wearing the tank top, but at least they hadn't yet decided to turn on the rain in the middle of the night, like they so often had a way of doing. It was very inconvenient. He liked the rain, but he wasn't in the mood for it right now.  
As if reinforcing his thoughts, he felt a drop on his cheek and another on his arm, and it began to drizzle.  
Damn. He was too good.  
He began to jog along the sidewalk at a brisk pace, paying no attention to the blinding headlights of the cars whizzing past, blaring their stereos. Planet Dance was playing on more than one radio. So long since it had been released, and it was still popular. He wondered if it would have been popular if the Protodeviln hadn't landed. Ironic.  
Mylene's apartment looked like a mansion, and for a moment, he thought it was a little unfair for someone to have that much money, mayor and captain's daughter or not. But that was the way of the world. Stopping, he poked around for a little bit. He hadn't been here much…it made him feel uncomfortable to stay in any kind of luxurious surroundings for long, and he had forgotten how to get in. Finally finding the button on the side of the gate, he jammed it in with his finger.  
"Just a moment," the electronic voice proclaimed, and he waited, tapping his fingers against the iron gate post and wondering just what in the world he was going to say to get her to let him in. He didn't think sympathy for his soaking wet condition would work.  
"I should be home," he growled.  
"What's that?"  
He jumped, then realized it was just Mylene's voice from the speaker. "Oh…hey…it's me."  
"Eh…who?" A pause. Then: "Basara? What on earth are you doing here at this time of night? And in the rain, too!"  
"I'm wet," he said shortly. "Let me in."  
"Mou!" She sounded exasperated. He wouldn't have expected any less. "All right, fine." The speaker clicked off before he could say anything else, and the gate opened slowly on oiled hinges. He slipped through the widening opening and jogged up the drive, feeling self-conscious. The rain trickled down through his hair and beaded his glasses, soaking through his shirt and pants and socks, and he felt like a drowned rat. He was sure that tracking rainwater and mud on the expensive carpet wasn't such a good thing to do, but there were really no other options at this point.  
He reached for the door handle but it opened before he touched it, and a towel was thrust in his face. "Take this. You look like a drowned rat."  
"Good evening to you too," he said breezily, yanking the towel from Mylene's hand and rubbing it against his hair. "Great weather outside."  
She glared at him. "What are you doing here? It's after two in the morning. Mou!"  
"You know," he said, "if you don't watch it, you'll have me saying that."  
Her glare grew more fierce, if that was possible. "Mou!"  
"I told you," he said, flinging rainwater carelessly onto the carpet. The towel was wet now, and the only way to dry himself off was to take off his clothes. And he wasn't about to do that in front of her. Well…the shirt could go.  
He knew she was trying not to stare as he peeled the shirt from his wet skin, and he brushed past her into the apartment. "Don't stare. It's not nice."  
"I'm NOT staring! Anyway, who'd want to stare at someone like you?"  
"I don't know," he said. "I'm not the one staring, am I?"  
"Mou!"  
"You should be in bed," he said, just now realizing that he was lucky she was awake at this time of night. "What were you doing?"  
"None of your business."  
Head in his hands. "I should have gone home."  
"Yes you should have," she said. "Why are you here? You never visit me. You've been here all of twice, and neither of those times were friendly calls. What are you up to?"  
"Maybe I want to make a friendly call now," he said. The bathroom was on his right and he began to wring out his shirt in the sink.  
"I didn't say you could use my bathroom!"  
"Would you rather I get your floor wet?"  
She didn't say "mou" this time, which was surprising. In fact, she didn't say anything at all, and when he emerged from the bathroom to tell her so, she wasn't there.  
"Mylene?"  
"What?" her voice was muffled. From the bedroom. He hesitated. The door wasn't closed, but even he had second thoughts about walking into a girl's bedroom uninvited.  
"Can I come in?"  
"Well," she sniffed. "Polite, aren't we?" Her head appeared in the doorway. "One second." He waited while there were sounds of things being thrown into place, then her head appeared again. "You can come in now."  
There was the usual pink theme in her room, as with everything else. He wasn't surprised. "Nice room."  
She looked suspicious. He sat down on her floor.  
"You can sit on the sofa. Or the bed. I don't mind."  
He shrugged and sprawled out on the small couch in the corner while she perched on the bed.  
"So."  
"So?"  
"What are you doing here? You never answered my question."  
"I guess the answer that I wanted to visit you won't cut it."  
"No," she said flatly. "You never want to visit me, so I don't know why you would want to start now."  
"Veffidas told me to come," he said finally, deciding to tell the truth as he saw it. She was startled. She was so easy to read, it was almost endearing.  
"Eh?"  
"I was-" he stopped. Why he was telling her this, her of all people, was beyond him.  
"You were what?" she prodded.  
_Talk to her._  
He shrugged. "I was having some problems with Ray."  
"Oh," Mylene said. She sounded confused. "I'm sorry. I guess."  
"Sure you are."  
"I am!" Silence for a few moments. "What kind of trouble?"  
Nothing a kid like you would know about, flashed the reply through his head, but he hadn't come here to get in another shouting match with her. "Stuff. He thinks I come in too late. That kind of thing."  
"Sou…ka," she managed, and he imagined what she must be thinking, with him showing up in the middle of night, sitting soaking wet on her couch, telling her about his personal problems.  
"I haven't gone insane," he said, helpfully. She snorted.  
"You could be a little less difficult sometimes," she said.  
"So could you," he returned. His underwear was wet and that was a very unpleasant feeling, but he didn't have to be the world's smartest man to know that she didn't have any underwear his size in her apartment.  
"Surprised I have problems? I am human, believe it or not."  
Mylene glared again. "Mou." But the sound didn't have its regular sting, and she only met his eyes for a few seconds before shifting them away to the piece of paper that he realized she had been holding for a few minutes.  
"What's that?"  
"A song," she admitted. "I've been working on it all night…it doesn't sound right, though."  
Basara sat up straighter. That was something he could help with. "Care to let me see?"  
She handed the sheet over and he glanced at it. Kimi ni Todoke? A good title. He ran through the lyrics and the chords in his head. She was right…there was something not quite right.  
"I think," he said slowly, "if you changed the chord here…and maybe made this an A instead of a C..." He grabbed a pencil off her dresser, marking in the correct changes. "How's that sound?"  
"I don't have perfect pitch," Mylene said, annoyed. He shrugged and handed the paper back to her.  
"Try it later, then. Or can I hear it now?"  
She blushed ever so faintly, and he grinned. "Not necessary."  
"When I finish," she promised, still blushing, "you'll be the first to hear it."  
"Well, I feel honored." He sat back on the sofa. "Am I bothering you? If I am, I'll go…thought it would be a nice change to talk to someone besides Ray for a change, though."  
"You're not a bother," Mylene said in a low voice. "It's jut that…it's….well, weird. Talking to you like this, I mean. Without arguing."  
"We can argue if you want."  
"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"  
Basara laughed. "I know."  
"I wish you wouldn't disappear so much, though. That you wouldn't sneak out by yourself at night. And that you would show up on time to things."  
"I have my reasons," he said tightly, a little more tightly than he had meant it to come out, and he saw her shoulders slump a little. "I'll try," he conceded. Sivil. "But…I have my reasons."  
"I know."  
There was silence. He eyed her guitar longingly, but it was too late here to play anything loudly like he liked to play it, and she was tired.  
"I guess I should be going then," he said, getting up from the sofa. "Sorry to bother you."  
"You're not a bother," she said, opening the door for him. "Keep yourself safe going home."  
He waved and jogged out past the gates to the sidewalk. It was still drizzling, not quite a full-fledged rain. He would have preferred a real storm, not this halfhearted sprinkle that soaked into his clothes bit by bit and left him feeling miserable instead of refreshed.  
Still, it had been nice to actually talk to Mylene, for once. They argued way too often. He considered himself to be good with children, and he could handle most rational adults just fine, but Mylene was at that age where she was neither a child nor an adult, inquisitive about everything and far too unpredictable.  
He dodged the stream of cars across the street, not waiting for the walk signal, heedless of the honking directed towards his retreating back as he took the ally shortcut to the backdoor of the apartment, letting himself in and shaking himself like a wet dog.  
_You're not a bother. Keep yourself safe going home._  
It was nice to know after all that he could carry on a decent conversation with her. Nice to know that she was someone he could talk to, if he ever needed someone. He wrung his hair out, leaving the water in a puddle on the floor. Mylene would have told him to clean it up. His lip quirked at the thought. Funny girl.  
_Do you know how many members have quit on us now? Hurry up and get her back!_  
Mylene would never quit, he knew that. Mylene wasn't like the rest of them. He could see it in her eyes when she sang. She was like him.  
"That's a scary thought," he mumbled to himself, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling. She could annoying and immature sometimes, but there was a great beauty to her singing which would bloom with time. Without her there was no Fire Bomber. Without Veffidas or Ray or himself, there was no Fire Bomber. They were a family, the four of them.  
"What's a scary thought?"  
Basara jumped. "Ray!...hey, what are you still doing up? You should be asleep!"  
The keyboardist was looking at him reproachfully over the stair railing. "So should you. I see you managed to get wet in the process."  
"It's raining," he said, taking the stairs three at a time, clapping a startled Ray on the shoulder as he passed. "Thanks."  
"Hm? For what?"  
He threw open the door to his apartment, flipping on all the lights. "For everything! What else?" His guitar was sitting on the floor beside the door and he grabbed it, plugging in the amp and turning it up as loud as it could go.  
"Basara! People are sleeping!"  
He grinned broadly at Ray, throwing his arms up and feeling the fire in his blood, feeling the melody pounding through it. The music of the daylight was for the screaming fans and the marketmongers and the producers who didn't understand. But the night was for the enemy asleep in the forest, the man who was both like a father and a friend to him, a woman who had taught him so much with only a few words, and a girl after his own heart.  
"Ray! Let's sing!"  
And in the dim light of the stairwell, he saw Ray smile, and everything was right again.  
"BOMBER!" 

* * *

**Story Notes**

With all of the Basara/Mylene fics out there, I feel that the Basara and Mylene relationship deserves some explaining. While I understand that the creators of the series really tried to get something going with the Basara-Mylene-Gamlin "love triangle," it doesn't quite work out. Gamlin is obviously infatuated with Mylene, but it doesn't quite work the other way around. Mylene is one of the few anime girls I've seen that actually acts her age, and as a fourteen-year-old girl who acts fourteen, she's far too young to have a relationship with either Gamlin or Basara (though her parents don't seem to think so). Compared to, say, Utena in _Shoujo Kakumei Utena_ or even Relena Peacecraft in _Gundam Wing_, both of whom are around the same age as she is, Mylene really is a child, very immature in both her actions and her words. We have this reinforced in every episode.

Mylene is at the age where, as Ray put it, "she inquisitive about everything." She's also the perfect age to develop a crush on males, and Gamlin and Basara are right there and perfectly available. While Gamlin represents the perfect man, the "nice guy," Basara is the unattainable goal, the dream of every girl, the rebel. As a result, Mylene can't seem to choose between them, even though it's obvious that Gamlin desires a relationship with her and Basara doesn't. And Basara isn't all that mature himself.

I'm not saying that all fanfics with Basara-Mylene relationships are wrong, because the creators of Macross 7 made it perfectly clear that not all the dynamics between Basara and Mylene stem only from pure friendship. But at the point where the series takes place, I don't believe Basara would desire to pursue anything further. Mylene is, after all, fourteen.

So what about the rest of the band members? We have Basara's love/hate relationship with the bassist, but what about Ray and Veffidas? He's known both of them for far longer than he has known Mylene, and too often she gets the spotlight, leaving the other two out in the dark.

This fic is an exploration of Basara's interactions with all the members of Fire Bomber, out of the spotlight, each on on his or her own level. Each of them has something special to offer to make Fire Bomber/Sound Force what it is, and without even one of them, Basara would never be where he was. I think he realizes this, perhaps unconciously. He is the savior of Macross 7, the Anima Spiritia, but only with the other three members of his "family" supporting him can he take his music where he wants it to go.

And I'll stop now before I write notes that are longer than the fic...^^;;


End file.
